


even if the world turns against you (until the very end we will be together)

by were1993



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Post-Apocalypse, disgruntled peeps to friends, not quite enemies to friends lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were1993/pseuds/were1993
Summary: They say if you died on May 26, you were one of the lucky ones.





	even if the world turns against you (until the very end we will be together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mingowow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/gifts).



> Prompt: Post-apocalyptic, earth is a wasteland, dog eat dog/trust no one world. They somehow end up surviving/living together as a "team" (maybe enemies to lovers?) 

[the catalyst]

\---

Xu Minghao has never had a fear of drowning.

He doesn’t know how to swim, but he’s not stupid enough to submerge himself into any large body of water. It’s not worth the radiation sickness.

Now, with the water crushing him from all sides, Minghao feels nothing but fear.

Flailing against the rushing water, Minghao doesn’t know what to do. His ears are waterlogged but he doesn’t need them to _feel_ the frantic beating of his heart. His eyes are wide open but he can’t see anything in the darkness. His arms are outstretched but they feel nothing—only the drag and pull of the vicious current.

The water is heavier than he expected. His beloved leather jacket is a deadweight but he can’t stop moving to take it off. Pure survival instinct drives his legs to kick and arms to thrash in an attempt to keep his head above water. Minghao knows he’s strong—there are no weaklings who survive in the Wasteland—but he doesn’t know how much longer he can last.

The darkness is unending and the water seems to have no destination in mind. It just keeps pulling him further and further and further and—Minghao is thrown against a solid surface. The force pulls him underwater, and he chokes at the shock, inhaling water down his airway.

The water doesn’t wait for him to find his bearings again and just sweeps him away down its dark path. He barely thrashes back to the surface through the force of pure adrenaline. His breaths are coming in harsh and frantic gasps. He knows he should be conversing air just in case his air supply gets cut— _oh god, he’s going to die._

His arms and legs are burning from exertion. He’s going to die. His lungs are burning from the intrusion. He’s going to die here. His shoulders are burning from the impact, and his eyes are burning from unshed tears. He’s going to die, no, he’s _dying_.

Minghao chokes out a weak but maniacal giggle. He’s dying from too much freshwater.

The irony is not lost on Minghao.  While the rest of the world is suffering from radioactive contamination, he’s going to die in the largest freshwater supply they’ve found to date.

_Fucking hell._

The water suddenly pulls him downward, and Minghao is helpless as the water engulfs him. He tries to hold whatever air he could, but the pressure of the water crushes his chest. Panic overrides any rational thought. He opens his mouth in a desperate attempt for oxygen. It’s hopeless.

Water, water, water— _he’s dying._

His short life flashes before his eyes—the Refuge crumbling away, the Colony betraying them, the Wasteland becoming home—and Minghao can't let it end this way. He thrashes violently in the water. He's not sure what he can do and he's losing air with every kick, but he can't stop. The heaviness is spreading through his limbs, and his body is slowly giving up.

He won't die like this. He can't. He--his hand breaks the surface and he feels cold, crisp air. But the water seems determined to drag him down. Minghao's been too long without air, but he still tries to reach the surface.

_Hyung, I—I can't die yet!_

His body screams for him to accept the darkness closing in on him, but Minghao can’t. He can’t just _die_. They finally found freshwater! The people of the Wasteland finally have a chance to survive! He left the Colony for this! He just needs a chance, a ledge, something to hold on, _anything!_

Someone grabs his hand and pulls— _hard_.

Next thing he knows, Minghao is lying on his side, coughing up water and gasping for oxygen. While his lungs still burned, Minghao feels his breaths coming easier. His heart is still beating erratically in his chest, and he can't really feel the arm his savior pulled.

Minghao sits up immediately. 

It's a mistake as the blood immediately rushes to his head, but he tries to look around as best he could. His eyes slowly adjust to the dim light from flickering electric lights--a luxury only the rich or the laboratories have. Squinting, Minghao realizes he's in some sort of industrial-sized tunnel reminiscent to the underground passages from the Refuge.

Minghao coughs as his lungs are still trying to get rid of unwanted water. Someone awkwardly pats his back, and Minghao swings around. 

The person makes a surprised noise and bolts. Minghao grabs the other's arm. The person looks back in shock before shaking him off and sprints down the tunnel. Minghao only catches facial features accented by the light--thick eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and square jawline. From their retreating figure, Minghao guesses they're a male between the ages of seventeen to twenty, but he's so disoriented that he can't say he trusts his own judgment.

He watches the figure disappear into a side tunnel and wonders. Minghao knows most of the people living in the Wastelands, and he's never seen this person ever.

Minghao looks around a little more, taking in the oddly familiar tunnel and the rushing water he was pulled out of. It looks like the explosion collapsed a part of the tunnel allowing the water to pool and travel through this area. The lights are a little dim where he sits and there is barely any light closer to the water—Minghao blinks.

There's a dark human looking figure lying closer to the water. The person's face is shrouded in darkness, but Minghao recognizes those suits anywhere.

The Colony Hunting Dogs.

Minghao slowly gets up, shedding his wet leather jacket. He slowly approaches the figure, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

He pokes at the other's leg with his shoe. No response. Minghao does this again harder, applying more pressure. The other's foot flops to the side.

Minghao slowly crouches next to the Hunting Dog just to check whether he's alive. The man is breathing and his chest is moving up and down. He's alive.

Taking a moment to give the unconscious man a one over, Minghao recognizes this one. The tall giant in a green suit who tried to approach Wonwoo. This was the one he got into a little argument before the explosion occurred.

Hah, was this Hunting Dog too slow to outrun the ground splitting open? Their motorbikes were definitely more for show than for use. He can't even count them as bikes—Minghao scoffs, they were more like _scooters_.

Minghao is tempted to just leave the Hunting Dog here. After all, that's what these Capitol people would do. But the other's clenched fist piques his curiosity.

It doesn't actually take much for Minghao to pry open the other's fingers, and he gently picks up the crumpled fabric. Smoothing it out, Minghao frowns. It's a little doll—obviously, hand stitched and very familiar to everyone in the Wasteland.

A few years back, someone started leaving these little white dolls with pink caps on the graves of those eliminated by the Colony. No one knows who the Doll Maker is, and in the Wasteland where death is merely another neighbor, this practice of honoring the dead was practically nonexistent. Even though some residents scoffed and sneered at the little toys left on unmarked graves, Minghao knows it gives many more comfort, knowing that someone out there would care.

At one very low point, it gave Minghao comfort, knowing someone still sees human life as something precious and worth mourning for. That humanity is still worth mourning for even with the lows they’ve managed to hit after the Event.

Apparently only Wonwoo and Jeonghan know who the mysterious Doll Maker was— _oh_. This Hunting Dog approached Wonwoo with something and Minghao had automatically taken it as hostility. Now, Minghao wonders if _this_ was the reason.

Staring at the little doll, Minghao makes up his mind. He shoves the crumbled fabric into his back pocket and shuffles closer to the unconscious man.

"Hey, get up," Minghao says as loudly as his tired throat lets him. He shakes the other's shoulder until he gets a groan. "If you don't get up, I'm going to slap you."

"Ugh...a few more minu— _eh!?_ "

The Hunting Dog blocks Minghao's arm just as he goes in for the blow.

"That--you could have killed me."

"If I could kill you with a slap to the face, you Hunting Dogs would be pretty useless," Minghao says with a raised eyebrow.

"We're not hunting dogs," the other grumbles. He hisses as he sits up. Minghao rolls onto the balls of his feet in caution, but the other just shakes out his arms almost like a large dog. "I feel like something beat the shit out of me."

"The water's scary huh?" Minghao asks, relaxing into a squat with his heels on the ground. There's nothing like a shared almost death experience to soothe out any tensions.

"You can say that again," the Hunting Dog sighs. He stretches out his neck and legs. "I can't wait for the radiation sickness to settle in. I already feel nauseous."

"That has absolutely nothing to do with the water," Minghao shrugs, sitting down on the concrete flooring. He's still rather wet, but after shedding his jacket, his inner shirt is drying off rather quickly. "This is freshwater."

"Bullshit," the other snorts, patting the ground around him. He gives Minghao an understandable skeptic look. "The last freshwater sources are all up in the Fissure Mountains."

"This is freshwater," Minghao says. He really doesn't need to convince this Colony idiot of anything. After all, it's better if no one from the Colony knew of this freshwater source, but he's annoyed that this guy doesn't agree with him. "I've studied water for probably longer than you've been a Hunting Dog—"

"I'm not a hunting dog!"

"—and the reason I fell in here was to get a water sample because it didn't react to any of our radiation contamination equipment!"

"Oh, so you work with Wonwoo-hyung," the other says quietly.

"Yes!" Minghao exclaims in exasperation. He pauses. "How do you know Wonwoo?"

"Uh, you can say we were really close when he was still living in the Colony," the other says. He seems to be searching for something as he continues patting the space around him. "Like childhood friends."

"Are you Mingyu?” Minghao asks.

The Hunting Dog, no, Mingyu looks up in surprise.

“He said you wouldn’t survive as a Hunting Dog,” Minghao blurts out. He remembers overhearing Wonwoo and Jeonghan talking about the friends they left behind in the Colony once. Minghao always wondered whether they ever regretted leaving. He didn’t have any connections to the Colony when he left—at least, not any living ones.

“Well, Wonwoo-hyung said a lot of things that didn’t end up coming true,” Mingyu says bitterly. “Rebuilding the education system, advancing water filtration, _saving the evolved—ha_!”

Minghao frowns.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu sighs. He brings his knees up, making him look like a large child masquerading as an adult in his fitted green suit. “I’m talking too much. Why would you care? After all, we are just _systematic murderers_.”

“Good that you finally acknowledge that,” Minghao shrugs, but he feels a slight twinge of guilt. In the Wasteland, the Hunting Dogs function much more than an elimination unit. He knows this, but his temper got the best of him. Minghao hesitates before pulling the doll out of his pocket and holding it out. “But I guess not everything is as simple as a single label.”  

“Oh, there you are!” Mingyu smiles, plucking it out of Minghao’s hands.

“They look much better than before,” Minghao says. He rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, you’ve gotten better at making them?”

“Thanks?” Mingyu responds, copying Minghao’s questioning tone. It takes Minghao a moment to realize the other is joking. “I try?”

“I’m going to leave you here to die,” Minghao says deadpan.

“You’re going to leave me here to die?” Mingyu continues in the same tone. His smile is silly and bright, and it takes every bit of his self-restraint for Minghao not to mirror it.

“Never mind, I’m going kill you,” Minghao frowns.

“Slapping me to death?”

Minghao raises a hand threateningly, but the corners of his lips are curled upward.

“If you’re going to end my life with a slap, at least give me your name!” Mingyu cries.

“Give you my name?”

“ _Hey_!”

“Minghao, Xu Minghao,” he says in his native language. He’s not too sure what language this is, but Minghao knows that his family has always spoken it.

“Ming—Mean-ho?” Mingyu tries.

“Seo Myungho,” Minghao shrugs. That was the name the Colony gave him, and it’s convenient. “I’m Seo Myungho. The guy who’s going to slap you to death.”

“Kim Mingyu, a Junior Colony Protector,” the other says. He holds out a hand. “I guess, you call us Hunting Dogs though.”

“I think I’m just going to call you Mingyu,” Minghao says. He takes the offered hand, stands up and pulls the other man up with him.

“I…I just wanted to shake your hand, but I guess this works too,” Mingyu stutters. Their hands are still clasped together. “Holy shit, you’re strong.”

“Told you I could slap you to death,” Minghao shrugs.

“Well—”

A loud inhuman scream echoes throughout the tunnel, and both immediately look towards the sound. The tunnel lights flicker ominously before fizzing to a steady brightness.

Minghao looks back at his companion and, rather than the joking man he’s been bantering with, Minghao sees the Junior Colony Protected in the furrowed brows and grim set lips.

“Mutated conversi,” Mingyu says, and Minghao nods in agreement. He doesn’t go a night without hearing their painful cries in the Wastelands. “I guess we’re in this together until we get out.”

“I guess so,” Minghao agrees. “We can go back to single labels after we get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you called me just Mingyu even after we get out of here,” Mingyu says.

“We’ll see,” Minghao shrugs. He’s thankful that he’s already turned his back towards Mingyu because there’s no way to explain the smile on his face.

\---

They say if you died on May 26, you were one of the lucky ones.

In less than twenty minutes, a series of nuclear explosions destroyed most of the surface world. Humans, in an attempt to save themselves, had built deep underground structures. In some ways it worked, but in other ways it didn’t.

They say that a new species of humans— _Homo conversi_ , the converted ones—emerged after the Event. Humans who could ingest the radioactive contaminated water and vegetation without suffering from radiation sickness and eventual death.

In the beginning, this was a blessing, and for the first decade after the Event, the new species lived in peace with Homo sapiens. No one knows why, but some Converted began to deteriorate into violent madness.

Slowly, throughout the years, the human strongholds began pushing out the Converted from their walls. No one could risk it. The Converted were stronger than most humans and the destruction left behind their violent madness could crumble an entire stronghold. 

But the Wastelands were no place to live any life. So the Converted flocked the walls of the strongholds—The Refuge, The Colony, The Spectrum—to try and _survive_ , building their own communities.

The current peace was a precarious one, and Choi Seungcheol knew better than to fall into complacency.

He had been seven years of age during the May 26 Event, and he remembers better than anyone else how humans ran the world to ruins. He had been twenty years of age when the Refuge fell, and he remembers how he pleaded with the Refuge to stop their egotistical projects.

Seungcheol had been twenty-four when he lost his two best friends. He chose the peace of the Colony and their surrounding residents over the life of one—even though, it had been a very precious one.

Today, Choi Seungcheol is twenty-eight years of age, and he doesn’t regret his decision. The world isn’t fair, and he knows this better than anyone else.

“I can’t let you search for Mingyu,” Seungcheol says, and he watches Seungkwan’s face twist into something akin to anger. “We don’t have enough manpower to divert to this. If he survives, he will come back.”

When Seungkwan storms out of the office, Seungcheol doesn’t stop him.

“There was probably a nicer way you could have put that,” Soonyoung says gently. “Kwannie doesn’t know the cause of the electric explosions.”

“That’s why you’re going to go after him and play good cop,” Seungcheol shrugs.

“And give you some time to cry alone?” Soonyoung says. His tone is teasing but sad. “I know you were very fond of Mingyu. We all were.”

“Then don’t talk like he’s already dead,” Seungcheol snaps, but he immediately sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and slumps down in his chair. “Sorry, I—that wasn’t what I meant.”

“You know where to find me if you need me,” Soonyoung smiles. “Don’t suffer alone hyung. We’re already lonely enough in this world.”

Seungcheol merely nods as Soonyoung leaves, closing his office door with a gentle click. He sits there for a moment, defeated and tired. It always hurts to lose one of his junior officers, and he didn’t expect to lose Mingyu so soon— _no, stop, just stop_.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Seungcheol freezes. He slowly looks at the phone in the corner of his office. It hasn’t rung in years.  

_Ring. Ring._

He gets up and hesitates with his hand on the receiver. The last time this phone rang he learned that the Refuge fell.

 _Ring_.

Seungcheol picks up.

“ _Seungcheollie, it’s me._ ”

“What the hell do you want, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol grits out.

“ _What hostility. I want to save Mingyu and Myungho_.”

“I’m listening.” 

Seungcheol will never admit how nice it was to hear Jeonghan’s laughter through the phone. They had been best friends for so many years, but—Seungcheol smiles sadly at the photo frame on the bookshelf. 

They’ll never go back to those days where it was Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua. How could they when Joshua was dead?

\---

[this is only the beginning] 

**Author's Note:**

> KAIT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED. 
> 
> I ACTUALLY WROTE IN A LOT OF THINGS I WASN'T GOING TO LMAO for the sake of explaining some things that would otherwise take chapters LMAO 
> 
> BUT YEAH, THIS IS BASED OFF CALL CALL CALL. I'M SPEAKING IN CAPS CAUSE...CAUSE I DONT' KNOW. 
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3


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